


Let's Take Shelter

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zayn and Liam keep in contact after Zayn leaves the band. For the first time in years, they find themselves single at the same time.Something's got to give.





	Let's Take Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at least two years ago, and just found it in my drafts recently. I did a quick edit before posting, but it's mostly as it was on it's first draft. Enjoy!

4AM. Times Square. 

 

Two weeks since Zayn called off his engagement.

 

The early morning isn’t quiet here. The sun rises with a slow, grey sort of seeping, brightening the slot of sky over people’s heads gradually, even as the twenty-four hour billboards plastered over every surface spin and twirl with a manic sort of energy. 

 

Alone, anonymous. 

 

Liam tugs his hood a little further over his forehead, breathing in the gritty air of New York, and for the first time in ages, he really understands what people are talking about when the talk about  _ cities _ . When they talk about being lost in a crowd of thousands, alone in the midst of a buzz of life. It’s a bit exhilarating to be honest. Having all this space. 

 

Taxis speed by, night fraying apart at the edges, the lights glinting off their window. Everything's a blur of color and noise. 

 

A novelty, is what it is. 

 

He can’t stop smiling. 

 

He thumbs open his phone, standing there on the pavement in sweats and a pair of scuffed converse, and opens snapchat, probably looking like a right creeper as he tries to keep his head down, spinning slowly on the spot to get a ten second video of his buzzing surroundings. He slides the time filter over the screen - 4:03 - and taps out a line of sleepy emojis. 

 

He sends it to Zayn.

 

They’ve got an interview scheduled later today, but he doesn’t really see the point in catching a fleeting two hours of sleep, when he could be watching the impact of the sunrise over Time Square. 

 

Christ, Zayn is single again. 

 

The thought makes something like nausea slide into his stomach, but the thrill of it fizzes in his veins. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands just thinking about it. 

 

Zayn. 

 

_ Single. _

 

 

He gets a reply, a sleepy selfie of Zayn sprawled at his breakfast table with his morning cup of tea, hand tucked lazily behind his head. Liam feels a ridiculous smile burst over his mouth, and he chases it with his tongue like he can smooth the edges of it, not make it so obvious, but it doesn’t go away even as the timer runs out and the picture disappears forever. 

 

_ Single. _

 

He sends an unmarked picture of the sky to Harry and Zayn - something he thinks they’d probably appreciate. He tries to be a bit professional about it, tries to get the right angle for the lines of the buildings that surround him - tries to remember things that Harry has said in passing, crouched with a camera against a wide sky. He thinks he fails, but he can’t really tell either way. 

 

In any case, Harry won’t be up for a few more hours, and there’s no reply from Zayn. 

 

He spends another half hour there, just soaking in the easiness of anonymity, praying with each passing daylight second that no one will recognise him. The paps here have been a nightmare. 

 

And Sophia. 

 

Sophia trailing behind him like they’re not trying to stick together the fragmented vestiges of their relationship. Like they’re not clinging to their bright past. 

 

Like they still love each other. Or maybe they do, and they’ve just bollocksed it up. 

 

Maybe it’s just Liam letting them fall apart, picking at all the stray threads. 

 

________

 

The tour takes an age, and over the course of it, him and Sophia, they just… stop talking. 

 

Their phone calls are short, their texts going hours, sometimes days without reply. It’s easy, and it’s sad. He could fix it, if he wanted to. 

 

But so could she. 

 

Almost like a balance is tipped, he starts talking to Zayn  _ all the time _ .

 

Well, not talking. 

 

But the occasional snapchats evolve into videos of Harry attempting to tuck himself into a cardboard box and Louis scooting him around the room. Then it’s Niall fucking up a chord on his guitar. A picture of a sick wall of graffiti that Liam thinks Zayn would appreciate. Little comments late at night with a blank screen lines like  _ forgot my pants this morning _ along with a stupid blushing emoji, and  _ do u think dogs know they r dogs _ . 

 

Before he knows it, there's a little heart next to Zayn's contact name. He has to ask Josh what it means, and Josh gives him this little smile, and says, "Means you two snap each other the most."

 

Which is... cool.

 

Sometimes Zayn sends a carefully considered reply back, sometimes its just a quick snap of his unimpressed expression that has Liam grinning. 

 

It’s brilliant.

 

He gets some time off of the tour, and him and Sophia break up. It hurts, but not in the way that Liam had expected. Not like it hurt with Danielle, when he was never sure quite where he stood with her, where there was always the suspicion that she wasn’t just around for  _ him _ . Where there was the knowledge that she was never as invested as he was, or she was - just for the wrong reasons. 

 

Instead, they hug, tight and secure in the knowledge that they had loved each other - that there was never any doubt in that. 

 

There’s no resentment - no lingering resentment, in any case. Sophia looks at him with a sadness, eyes red and cheeks tear stained, but she’s got a smile on her mouth, and she looks as beautiful as she always has. Liam does love her, he's got the tears in his eyes to prove it -- he’s just not  _ in love _ with her anymore, and when he says this, she agrees with bright eyes and a twist to her mouth like it’s what she expected him to say. 

 

He remembers her making that exact same expression right after he had told her he loved her for the first time. Cliff jumping in Australia, buzzed on Ozzie beers and adrenaline. There had been so much more vitality about her, and less tears - wind whipping her hair as they stood on the edge of a cliff in their swimsuits. 

 

Right before they jumped together into the deep, clear water, she she let out a happy little laugh. When they came up from the deep splash, adrenaline fizzing in their veins, she’d swum closer, kissed him, dunked him under the waves. 

 

He’d felt like he could take on the world then, just about. 

 

But now they’re here. 

 

 

\---------

 

 

They keep living together.

 

He'd texted management about it, and had got no reply for a total of four days, before he had been called in for a meeting. 

 

They couldn't break up. 

 

Or, they couldn't announce that they'd broken up, or even allude to it. Then, he was given a schedule that listed the exact dates and detailed instructions on what was to happen when and where, resulting in the end goal of the break up announcement.

 

It makes his head hurt a bit, but it's nothing he's not used to.

 

Sophia is not, however, used to it.

 

The few days he has spare before he has to get back on a plane to their next destination, they have two screaming matches, one day where they completely avoid each other, and one day that they spend curled up on the bed together eating take out from the Italian place down the street. 

 

Then, Liam packs up, and he leaves.

 

________

 

 

London. Almost four months later. Zayn is still single. 

 

Liam is on Zayn’s doorstep, hoping there are no paps lurking as he waits for the door to swing open. 

 

It does, eventually. After nearly a full minute. 

 

Zayn just stares at him for a bit, and Liam has to shift his feet under the blank gaze. It’s been far too long. What, six months? Half a year since they’ve seen each other properly, in the flesh. It’s a lot. 

 

He’s beautiful. A shadow of stubble is rough over his jaw, hair longer at the top than when Liam had last seen him. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a short sleeved button down, barefoot on the white tile. Somehow managing to be almost untouchable, ethereal, even though Liam knows he’s just Zayn. Just a boy from Bradford - has seen him sobbing, has stroked his back and laughed gently as he was sick in various toilet basins, has held him close, breathed in the scent at the nape of his neck, knows the ins and outs of his ridiculous laugh, has watched him choke on a fish stick. 

 

Liam wants to turn around and walk the other way. He wants to laugh. He wants to kiss him. He wants to-

 

Zayn blinks. Takes a breath. Says, “Hey, mate. How -”

 

But Liam has a hand on his chest, pushing him back, and he grabs the door and slams it shut, keeping them in and the world out. He presses Zayn against the nearest wall of the wide entryway, and Zayn steps back easily, wide eyed, mouth parted slightly like he’s as overwhelmed as Liam is. 

 

Liam can’t even breathe, this thoughts not ordering themselves out. It’s like he’s hanging just outside his own body, the only thing he’s registering are Zayn’s eyes, his parted mouth. 

 

Zayn hits the wall, Liam’s hand still solid and pressed to his chest. They just look at each other for an endless stretch of seconds, and Zayn tries to say something, tries to say, “Liam -” confusion heavy in his voice.

 

But then he’s being kissed, and he takes to it readily, lips responsive and soft under Liam’s, like he’s been taking care of himself, like maybe he’s staying hydrated and smiling at the sky and spending enough time on his music to really enjoy it. Like he’s happy.

 

He kisses Liam back with a fervour that makes Liam a little dizzy - as if his lungs have switched places with his brain and all that’s left inside his skull is a heady rush of air. 

 

Liam brushes his thumb over Zayn’s solar plexus where his palm still presses there, maybe a little too firm, but his other hand slides up Zayn’s arm - Zayn pressing his fingertips into Liam’s waist - and up the back of his neck to cradle his skull, to cushion him where he’s pressed against the wall. 

 

“ _ Zayn _ ,” he says, before he even decides to, and maybe that’s why it comes out as something like a sigh. Fingertips drift down his side, anchor at his waist, and there’s the flash of a tongue over his bottom lip so quick and bright it might leave sparks between their mouths. Liam wouldn’t know. His eyes are closed. 

 

Zayn’s nose nudges into his a little too hard when he tries to change the angle, to deepen the kiss. It leaves Liam with a disjointed kind of ache at the bridge of it, and it lingers even as Zayn licks hot and slow and breathless into his mouth. 

 

All he can hear are Zayn’s little breaths in between the soft slot of their mouths together, and the little hum Zayn tongues into the roof of Liam’s mouth, which kind of tickles. 

 

It makes him smile. He tries to imagine he has super powers, that Zayn somehow just knows exactly what Liam’s thinking, understands all these feelings he has tucked between his ribs. 

 

Zayn smiles back against his mouth. It makes their lips fall out of alignment, and Liam smooths his hand up Zayn’s chest to press his thumb soft, just under his chin, his palm cupping Zayn’s throat just slightly to tilt his head the way he wants it. Liam runs his thumb over Zayn’s slick bottom lip as he pulls away, nudging it carefully, eyes flicking from the slightly swollen curve of it, to Zayn’s dark eyes. 

 

He swallows, and it seems like too much, in the silence. 

 

“Liam,” says Zayn, after a moment, a smile tilting his lips - crooked and just the slightest bit tentative at the corners - but still Zayn’s smile. Liam has always had this bizarre notion that Zayn’s lips would carry the easy warmth of sunshine on them when he smiled like that, and so he leans in again, just for a taste, an answering smile pressing at his own lips. 

 

“Hello,” he whispers into Zayn’s mouth. The first time he’s spoken since he arrived.

 

“Hey,” says Zayn, pulling back, smile still in place. They don’t feel like sunshine, but they do taste of sweet watermelon and just the slightest hint of something spicy tucked against his cheek. 

 

“Are you okay?” says Liam, and it comes out more earnest than he’d meant it to, voice a little rougher in contrast from the way Zayn had felt against him.

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn easily. “You?”

 

Liam tucks his forehead against Zayn’s neck. He remembers the past few weeks, and wants to say no, but right now, he absolutely is. 

 

“Good,” says Liam. “Missed you.”

 

He traces his fingertips lightly over Zayn’s jaw and closes his eyes, tries to breathe in Zayn’s scent without being obvious, but he might be a bit past that now. 

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn, “I got that, babe.” 

 

Liam can hear the easy tease of that smile in his voice, the softening of Zayn’s grip at his hips, the way one of Zayn’s hands slides to the dimples at the bottom of his spine and rest there. 

 

Liam huffs out a laugh. “I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he says.

 

“Me too,” says Zayn, stroking the small of Liam’s back just slightly, and it infuses Liam’s entire being with a cool, blissful comfort. Something akin to how New York felt - those early hours all alone in Time Square after the overwhelming buzz of being hounded by paps. “I missed you, too.”

 

Liam exhales, long and slow, and it feels like an echoing, lovely relief. He tucks a hand around Zayn’s waist, pulling them closer, his palm still cradling Zayn’s skull.

 

“This is new though, babe,” remarks Zayn, fingers still easing patterns over Liam’s skin, pulling the hem of his shirt up ever so slightly, ever so slowly. 

 

“I don’t know,” says Liam, even though he does. “Missed you, you know. Just-” he’s quiet for a few moments, and Zayn lets him be, lets him breathe. “It’s been absolutely mad without you.”

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn quietly, pressing a kiss to Liam’s temple. “For me too, at the beginning you know. Was fucking crazy, Li.”

 

Liam presses closer, leave an open mouthed kiss over Zayn’s collarbone. He feels Zayn let out a breath above him, and Liam rests his head back on Zayn’s shoulder, strokes his thumb over Zayn’s hip. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry for that Zayn. God, the fans, just- I appreciate them, you know?” Zayn huffs a barely-there laugh, “but bloody hell, they were so awful to you Zayn.”

 

“You don’t have to say you appreciate them every time, babe,” says Zayn with a small smile in his voice. “You can be angry, Li.”

 

“I was, a bit,” he says, “I just wanted you to be  _ happy _ . We all did, Zee. We all do.”

 

“I know,” says Zayn. 

 

They stand like that for a stretch of minutes, pressed together, clinging to each other. They’d kept in contact for those first few hectic weeks, when Zayn has been free, but caught in a mad crosswind, when he was being tugged in so many different directions at once, criticism coming from all angles. And then they had just- stopped. Snapchats with quick captions and  disappearing messages had been their only form of communication for months now. 

 

Liam swallows, and pulls back, stepping away completely from Zayn’s embrace. He clears his throat, suddenly unsure exactly where to look. Not at Zayn, not right now. He looks down Zayn’s entryway, into his kitchen. He clears his throat again. Goes to say something to dispel the tension, move them on from this space of wall where they’ve said and done too much. 

 

The kind of thing that’s difficult to take back. 

 

But Zayn knew him, still knows him. So, Zayn steps forward, follows Liam, and links their hands together so he can’t run away. So he can’t  _ fix  _ this, tidy it all back into place. 

 

“Don’t be like that, Li,” he says, eyes pleading, grip sure. “I’ll make us some tea, yeah? Come on."

 

They drink it in the garden, sitting side by side on the grass, backs against lip of the porch. Liam picks absently at the grass trying to crawl up the steps beside him. He tips his head back against the outside of the railings surrounding the raised porch. 

 

They’re looking out onto the garden, one of Zayn’s dogs just visible as she mucks about in the bushes. 

 

“You broke it off with Perrie, then?” says Liam, not looking at Zayn.

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn. He sounds like he’s accepted it. “And you and Sophia? You’re…” he trails off, and takes a sip of his tea, looking at Liam with almost hungry eyes. Intense, baited breath. 

 

“Me and Soph, yeah,” says Liam, unable to look away from Zayn. He’s got this little freckle in his right eye, hugging the pupil. Liam swallows. “That’s over now. Can’t announce it or anything, but…” He trails off as he glances down, Zayn’s fingers linking in between his own, his palm still warm from where he had been cradling his mug. “It wasn’t- it wasn’t what I wanted,” he finishes, eyes flicking back up to Zayn’s face. 

 

He shifts their hands so their fingers are interlaced properly. He flexes his fingers slightly, a soft squeeze, and Zayn squeezes back. “You gonna kiss me or what, mate,” says Zayn, a smile tilting the corner of his mouth up. 

 

Liam feels a slow smile working its way onto his mouth. He ducks his head, looking into the milky swirl of his tea. “Don’t think so, really. Recon I’ll give it a minute.” He tucks his chin and drowns himself in a gulp of tea, only daring to look at Zayn after he can feel it in his stomach. 

 

Zayn isn’t even pretending to be annoyed, instead he’s got this bright grin, something a bit perplexed in his eyebrows, but mostly he just looks a bit enchanted. 

 

The thing about this - what’s literally taking Liam’s breath away - is that Zayn is so beautifully unguarded. Liam had never known - never seen - complexity of Zayn’s feelings for him, but laid out all over his face like this, they’re undeniable. 

 

He squeezes Zayn’s hand again. Zayn squeezes back. 

 

“Come on, Li,” says Zayn, and Liam’s eyes snap up to his in a slow kind of shock as he registers the  _ sultry _ quality of Zayn’s voice. It’s making him a bit shaky, actually, having that directed at him. “Give us a kiss, yeah?” Zayn must have put his mug down on the grass, because his other hand is cupping Liam’s neck, his thumb just brushing under Liam’s ear, sending this quick flush down over the skin. 

 

“Can’t,” says Liam, literally unable to hide his grin, “I’m saving myself.” He’s staring straight at Zayn’s lips, though, so it’s probably not very convincing. 

 

“What, I gotta marry you to fuck you? Declare my intentions, or what?” says Zayn, easy smile in his voice, teasing, but setting hot coals to warm Liam from the inside with his words. The way they just casually roll off his tongue, things like ‘marry you’, and ‘fuck you’.

 

“Exactly, I’m proper pure. As the driven snow.” He looks down at where Zayn’s thumb is smoothing a soft arc over the slope of his knuckles. “Always wondered what that meant.”

 

Zayn shrugs. The hand at Liam’s neck falling back to his side. Liam lets out a slow exhale at the loss. “Like untouched snowdrifts or summat.” He takes a sip of tea. “I’ll marry you though, if that’s what it takes to get in your pants. Picky one, you are.” 

 

Liam huffs a laugh, “Might not say yes,” he says, leaning his head back against the railing and letting his head loll to grin at Zayn. 

 

“Come off it,” snorts Zayn. Liam raises his eyebrows, and Zayn rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. He nudges Liam’s side. “Marry me,” he says. “Please?” His smile is so crooked it looks like a work of art. 

 

“Alright,” says Liam with a shrug. He takes another sip of tea, a little difficult with the wild upturn of his lips. 

 

“Arsehole,” huffs Zayn, and then he’s putting down his mug again, gently nudging the curve of his finger under Liam’s chin, leaning in.

 

His lips are a bit swollen from when Liam had him pressed up against a wall earlier, and they catch on Liam’s just slightly, barely a kiss. There’s this little sound at the back of Zayn’s throat as Liam nudges forward, the barest give and take of breath over lips, like the soft lapping where the sea meets the sky along the wide band of the horizon. 

 

Liam puts his mug down as well so he can drape soft fingers over Zayn’s hip, flicking his shirt up a bit at the him so he can touch. 

 

Liam hums contentedly as Zayn deepens the kiss, parting Liam's lips easily with his own and just the smoothest hint of his tongue. 

 

“Yeah,” sighs Zayn, blinking lazily, tongue sliding over the cusp of his full bottom lip when Liam pulls away. 

 

Liam hums a noise of agreement, fingers tickling just under Zayn’s chin until Zayn flinches away with at giggle. 

 

Liam smiles so big, tucked against Zayn, mug of tea steaming quietly at his hip. Zayn’s lips are right there for him to kiss, Zayn right there for him to touch. 

 

He drags his thumb softly over Zayn’s bottom lip while they’re both smiling like proper idiots, and Zayn’s eyelashes flick, thick and lovely, over his cheekbones when he ducks his head to nip lightly at the pad of Liam’s thumb. 

 

Liam laughs, cups his hand at Zayn’s jaw, leans in to kiss him again. 

 

Zayn follows him willingly.

 

It’s the most perfect day Liam has had in awhile. They finish up their tea between kisses. Play with Zayn’s dogs, wander around the garden and catch up. They relocate to the kitchen eventually, and have an early dinner - Liam chops the vegetables and Zayn is in charge of the chicken. There’s music, and there’s so much laughter that Liam’s sides ache with it. A movie marathon takes them late into the night, until Zayn leads him to bed, and Liam follows, intertwining their fingers as they stumble through the living room, the long hallway. 

 

An extra toothbrush. More kisses. A proper cuddle once they reach the bed. They fall asleep like that, Zayn’s head on Liam’s chest. 

 

\---

 

Liam wakes up slowly at an indistinguishable time, rain shattering in heavy splashes against the wide windows. The thin blinds are down, but Zayn has pushed open the window just enough that he can huff his smoke out, rain smattering the windowsill on either side of him. 

 

Liam eases out of bed quietly, padding over the thick carpet to where Zayn stands, to trail a finger ever so lightly down his arm, fitting himself easily against Zayn's back.

 

"Time's it," mumbles Liam against Zayn's neck, winding his arms around Zayn's wonderfully bare torso and spreading his fingers wide over the wiry muscle of his stomach.

 

"Half ten, just about," says Zayn, equally as quiet. Liam can feel the way his chest expands as smoke soaks into his lungs. 

 

He nuzzles his nose over Zayn's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the bone of it. Zayn's free hand comes up easily to scratch through the hair at the nape of Liam's neck, before threading his slim fingers into the slight curls at the top, palm cupping the back of Liam's skull.

 

"Weather's awful," says Liam, rolling his neck a little at the feeling, a slight shiver slipping down his spine. 

 

Zayn makes a vague noise of assent, a slight shrugging of his shoulders as he brings the cigarette to his lips. 

 

"Don't think I can go out in this," Liam continues softly, lips catching, sleep-warm and morning-after swollen, on Zayn's skin as he speaks.

 

"Yeah?" says Zayn, and Liam can hear the barest hint of a smile in the softness of his mouth. "Looks alright to me."

 

"No," says Liam, smiling into the curve of Zayn's neck now, pressing their bodies even closer. "Could get struck by lightning."

 

"Couldn't," Zahn counters easily. "There isn't any." He stubs his cigarette out and let's it drop. "I've got, like, a weird feeling that you're just making things up so you can stay for breakfast."

 

"What's for breakfast?" asks Liam.

 

"Eggs." There's a pause. "Or maybe bagel bites." He lights up another cigarette.

 

Liam huffs a laugh, palms pressing Zayn to him tighter. 

 

"Are you sure," he says, dragging wet kisses up Zayn's neck as Zayn takes a long drag, "that I can't stay just a little while longer?"

 

Zayn hums under his breath as Liam sucks lightly at a spot just under the keen curve of his jaw. 

 

"Yeah, you've convinced me, I s'pose." Zayns free hand curls back to cup Liam's thigh, just under the curve of his arse. 

 

"Didn't take much. Reckon you're a bit soft on me, you are." Liam ruts slightly over the curve of of one of Zayn's arse cheeks, smoothing his palm up over Zayn's pec to thumb a nipple. Zayn grinds back against him easily, lazily, smoke trailing in beautiful curls from his sweetly parted mouth. 

 

"Or you’re just a bit of a slag" he teases quietly, readjusting his grip so he's got a good hold on Liam's arse as well, pressing him closer still, skin so smooth and warm against Liam's.

 

"S'pose it doesn't count if we're married," says Liam graciously, bright smile tucked against Zayn's neck. 

 

"Forgot about that," says Zayn. He huffs out a tuft of air as Liam's other hand slides lower to trail his fingers over the crease of Zayn's thigh.

 

"Bit of a reminder is in order, then," whispers Liam, and then drops to his carefully to his knees, fingers brushing the half-hard length of Zayn's cock as he goes. 

 

"Probably so," says Zayn, arching his back just slightly under the pretense of leaning a little further over the windowsill on an exhale.

 

Liam lets himself touch for a minute while Zayn smokes, fingers smoothing everywhere - the slim lines of Zayn's hips, the easy dip at the small of his back, the rounds of his arse, the slimness of his thighs. His mouth follows soon after, lips leaving burning bright trails over Zayn's skin. 

 

"Turn around for me, Zee," he murmurs into the skin, pulling away when Zayn complies, easy sigh heavy in his lungs. 

 

He gets his hands on Zayn's hips as soon as Zayn faces him, looking up from his knees, past the lovely, heavy length of Zayn's filling cock, up to where Zayn is watching him, this look on his face - lips parted, eyes hooded as he takes a drag from his cigarette, gaze never leaving Liam's even as tendrils of smoke film over his eyes. 

 

Liam looks away to focus, almost caught up in the wild eternity of Zayn's stare. Instead he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the ink of Zayn's heart tattoo on his hip, and takes Zayn's cock in hand, tongue sliding over the heavy head, kissing hot and soft over the slit. 

 

Zayn's fingers slide into his fluffy fringe, ring finger catching on a curl. 

 

The scent of Zayn is soft, all boy and soap and sleep. Liam cups the backs of Zayn's thighs when he takes him in his mouth, bobbing his head deeper until he can feel the head of it pressed to the back of his throat. He breathes, chokes slightly, and then recovers, taking in a shaky breath through his nose. 

 

He’s out of practice, but not awful. It takes a second to adjust properly, until he can coordinate to lick at the underside, the slight wiry hair at the base catching on his tongue. He bobs his head a bit again, hollowing his cheeks until he has Zayn moaning quietly above him. 

 

A moan escapes, soft enough that he can hope Zayn misses it, as he swallows around him, eyes closed and leaking hot tears at the corners. He thinks he hears a low, answering moan from above him. He tightens his grip on Zayn's thighs, almost clinging to him now as he pulls off with a thick pop, tongue dragging slick up the underside as he sucks in deep breaths. 

 

"Haven't done this in a while," he says, ducking his head, bashful so he can't see what Zayn is thinking of him. "You can-" he presses Zayn's hand harder into the back of his skull. Zayn gives an experimental tug, and Liam gives a soft groan. "Yeah," he sighs out, and then swallows Zayn down again, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he does his best to remember everything from when he'd done this once for the first time in the loos at a club years ago. He tries to use more tongue as he breathes through his nose, tries to remember it all, but it's a lot to think about.

 

He just focuses on the slick, heavy drag of Zayn's cock on his tongue, and the way Zayn's fingers tighten and tangle in his hair, pushing him up and down just slightly, more of a suggestion than anything. 

 

He loses himself in it, in the push and pull, in the tingle of his lips, in the thick precome that smears the back of his throat and the bed of his tongue. It leaves a shine over his lips when he pulls off to kiss praises onto the head, bottom lip slick and swollen where it catches slightly just under the round of it. 

 

Zayn's moans are quiet, concentrated, warm like dark coffee and they sit in Liam's chest and drop down to spark in his blood and in his cock. 

 

" _ Liam _ ," Zayn says, and it sounds so helpless, a rough whisper, breaking slightly on the second syllable, that Liam has to look up, eyelashes fluttering. 

 

He pulls off with what must have been an almost comedic choking pop, eyes wide, grip on Zayn's hips terrified. 

 

"Shit," he breathes, scrambling up to his feet in seconds. 

 

"No," says Zayn, so quiet and wet it barely exists, and he tries to half heartedly press Liam away. Liam gives him his bare distance, only a few inches separating the warmth of their naked skin as he brushes the tears away carefully with his thumb. 

 

"Um-” he says, struggles with what to say. "What did I do wrong?" It comes out all soft and rough, and he has to clear his throat, standing there and feeling so panicked and useless. 

 

Zayn huffs a helpless little laugh, trying to blink away the tears even as Liam smooths his thumbs over his cheeks. "No," he insists, hand clinging to his own shoulder in a half-hug as he curls into himself. "Fuck," he says empathetically, "I'm really sorry, Li." 

 

Well, mid blow-job was a bit unexpected, but he can't say he's surprised by it. He'd just thought he'd have more time. 

 

"Zayn," he says, voice a little stronger this time. "Look at me, yeah? Look at me." He cups Zayn's cheeks until those big eyes meet his. "It's alright," he says, a little smile perking bravely, shakily, at the corner of his mouth. 

 

Zayn swallows thickly, and nods, eyes downcast. "Alright," he says, so quietly that Liam can barely hear him.

 

"Zayn, I promise, yeah?" he breathes, "it's okay." He strokes his fingers over the slight stubble on Zayn's cheeks, feeling dizzy and nauseous, head thrumming with a base, animal kind of terror, but he fights through it, forcing his hands to drop, for him to step away.

 

That almost pulls Zayn completely out of the protective curve of his body, shining eyes watching him with something that looks like the panic that Liam feels. 

 

"I'm just gonna-" Liam clears his throat again, words getting all tangled up in the swell of tears gathering at the base of his throat. "I get that this isn't what you need right now, or-" he can't bring himself to say 'ever'. He scrubs his hand through his hair, and then down over his face, eyes pressed tightly closed. "Um- don't worry about uh, this.” He gestures loosely with his hand, more unsure by the moment of what it was. Of what the hell they thought they were doing. “You clearly need some space- time- I mean, I can't pretend that I- that I don't-" he's barely choking out words now, and he coughs out a shaky sigh that comes out shuddery and terrified, which is not what he wants for Zayn right now, who clearly needs someone who is  _ not Liam _ .  "I’m-” still, he can’t quite bring himself to apologise for it.

 

He finally looks up at Zayn, and trails off. Zayn stares at him, horrified. His cigarette smokes idly from where he'd apparently just dropped it on the windowsill. 

 

“ _ Liam _ ," he says, and reaches out for him, grabbing him harshly at his biceps and tugging him closer, tucking Liam's head into his neck. Liam has never felt more of a pure wash of relief in his life. Liam clings to Zayn's hips, sucking in a shuddery lungful of Zayn's scent. "That’s not it, babe, that was just-" he strokes desperately over the skin of Liam's shoulders. "That was the daftest thing you've ever-" he nudges Liam back slightly so he can kiss him, teeth clacking sharply, spit slicking over Liam's cheek as their mouths slide out of alignment. 

 

Liam kisses with an aching surge of relief. "You were  _ crying _ ," he manages to murmur over the mad smudge of their kisses. "Why were you crying?"

 

They pull their mouths from each other, panting, foreheads pressed together. 

 

"It’s really daft," says Zayn, stroking up and down Liam's sides, palms hot and dry with the friction. 

 

"I thought you-" Liam starts, but Zayn cuts him off abruptly.

 

"I know what you fucking thought," he says, eyes screwed shut as if in pain. 

 

"I just-" Liam skates his lips over Zayn's cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, his eyelid. "Tell me why you were crying, babe. Please."

 

"I was just, like, overwhelmed," says Zayn, muffling it in Liam's shoulder. "It's just you, like-" Liam can feel him swallow nervously. "Babe, I've wanted you for years now, like, all me life, feels like by now," he continues, "and you were just on your knees for me, letting me-" he groans into Liam's shoulder in what sounds like shame. "You're so beautiful" he cups the back of Liam's head, pressing his kiss-swollen lips to the soft vulnerability of Liam's cheek. 

Liam huffs an awed laugh into Zayn's shoulder, and pulls back to kiss him more gently than he's ever kissed anyone in his life. "We can try again some other time, promise," he says, small, lovely smile on his face as he takes in Zayn's shining cheeks. 

 

"Completely fucked over the mood, haven't I," says Zayn, regretful smile on his mouth.

 

"You have a bit," Liam concedes, stroking Zayn's ribs, pressing sweet little kisses over every stretch of skin and ink he can reach.

 

"Was just a mess with Perrie, yeah," Zayn says, voice stronger now, "Haven't really let myself react to it properly, I s'pose, like. Bit of a dam build up." Liam hugs him so tight he imagines for a second that they are one living, breathing organism. "I can't believe you thought that I was-" Zayn sounds more astounded than anything else, "right in the middle of a blowie." He laughs weakly, and Liam laughs as well, too relieved to do anything else. 

 

"Dunno what I was supposed to think," says Liam against Zayn's cheek. He's smiling, something sad at the corners.

 

"I'd never," says Zayn, with a convincing force behind his words, gripping at the back of Liam's neck. "Can quote some poetry if you want me to. Can't remember right now but it's deep as anything. It'll knock your socks off, like."

 

"Haven't got any on," says Liam in a small voice, tipped with mirth. 

 

"Christ," says Zayn. 

 

Liam snorts into his shoulder. 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises. “We’re both in a right mess, but we’ll figure it out.”

 

They hold each other like a reassurance, like they can promise anything more than the next day, the next week to each other. Years in the making, and all they have is the square footage of Zayn’s London flat to breathe easily in. 

 

“Yeah,” breathes Zayn, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his mouth. 

 

It’s a good a promise as any. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've orphaned this because it's not really my vibe anymore, but it seems like such a waste to write a whole fic and not post it. I'll check up on it from time to time, because I love seeing people's comments and get feedback. I'd love to hear what you think!!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :))


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